Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ada

" A package came for you," Betsy says with a wink, bringing me to an abrupt stop as I dump a round of empties on the bar.

It is Friday lunchtime, and trade is already steady. Tonight is usually busy and rowdy, but it's also the night when Callum and his father call in. I am already in knots of anticipation. There is no hope for it. I can't think about anything but the kiss… Well, and Master Gray, although there is always a measure of guilt when my eyes drift his way if he is here.

However, for now I am baffled by the news of this mysterious package.

My stomach turns queasy as I worry it might be something to do with my father. Perhaps he knows where I am and is issuing a threat.

Perhaps he will come for me.

"Hey," Betsy says, turning to me with a frown. "You have lost all color. It was Callum as dropped it by this morning. I think the lad had hoped to catch you, but you were helping May make up the beds in the guest rooms at the time. I don't think Callum has a nefarious bone in his body, and, if his sorrowful expression when I told him you were busy is anything to go by, the lad is sweet on you."

All the blood that just drained from my face rushes back, and I blush up to the roots of my hair.

Betsy chuckles, reaches under the counter, and pulls out a cloth-wrapped bundle.

Thank goodness there is a lull in the customers because I gasp when I see it. My fingers shake as I carefully unwrap it, and my prized book tumbles into my waiting hand.

"The Princess and the Pea," Betsy says.

"Oh, is that the title?" I ask, breathless and shaking with emotion. "I cannot read."

She smiles. "Aye. It looks like a children's storybook. It is a strange wooing present, though, to be sure."

"I—it's not a wooing present," I say, confused about how he got it. "I kept it hidden under my bed. H-how did Callum come to have it?"

My heart beats wildly in my chest as I try to determine what this means.

"Oh, there's a note with it," Betsy says, indicating the paper I only now notice peeping between the pages of the book.

I draw out the handwritten note with shaking fingers and offer it to Betsy. "Would you read it for me?"

"Are you sure?" she asks. "What if it's a private kind of message?"

"No, please. I want to know."

She skims it with her eyes. "It says... ‘I believe this might be yours… You do not need to worry about him anymore. He has been taken care of… signed Callum'."

Tears pool in my eyes as I take the note from her and carefully fold it again.

"He is talking about your worthless father, I take it?"

I nod. "I think so. But how?"

She shrugs. "How do you think they got us out of that pit? Callum's pa has always been more than just a blacksmith. Now, that is a fine man." Her face takes on a dreamy expression. "I don't mind a bit of maturity. Truly, it's a pity he thinks himself too old. I swear the man is in his prime." She makes like she is fanning herself before grinning and pointing at the paper and book clutched to my chest. "Happen this is a wooing present, after all."

I dash up the stairs to stow the note and my book in my little attic room, and then I breeze through the day in a daze that is every bit as dreamy as the expression on Betsy's face when she talks about Callum's father.

I can't keep my eyes off the clock over the mantel, counting the hours, watching the sunset and the lamps being lit, and waiting for the time when Callum and his father usually turn up. My eyes are constantly on the door—I nearly put my neck out how often it whips around when I hear the familiar jangle of its opening.

By the time they finally enter, laughing as they talk to another man, I have passed through nervousness into a state of anticipation so great that I freeze on the spot halfway across the room, arms laden with a tray full of pints.

"Don't leave us thirsty, Ada!" a patron calls, but I don't turn to acknowledge him, for my eyes are on Callum, who has similarly stopped dead and is staring at me.

In an instant, I know all that he did.

His father leans in to rest his hand on Callum's shoulder, and he says something to his son.

I need to move, but I'm caught in the pull of Callum and have no hope.

Betsy saves me. Bustling over, she takes the tray of drinks from me, calling out to the patrons that she is on her way before she turns to me. "Take him out the back, lass. I'll cover for you. Happen the two of you need to talk."

I don't know I am moving until I take his hand and usher him out the back.

Mindful that Gareth beats a path to the cellar often, I don't stop until we are in the hay barn where we keep feed for the horses that our guests stable here.

The air was chill as we walked through the courtyard, but we are out of the wind here, and the excitement coursing through me provides a source of heat. The light is weak, but when I lower my eyes to where his hand holds mine, all I see is a big, capable hand that makes mine look so small. Then my breath catches as I notice the split knuckles and the bruises over them. With a light touch, I skim over the marks, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes. No one ever looked out for me before. No one cared. Now Callum has done so, not once, but twice.

I lean down and brush my lips against the skin.

He hisses a breath, and I glance up, wondering if I have hurt him.

Then I see the look on his face, his flared nostrils, and the heat in his eyes, and suddenly I am burning up for him. Leaning up on my tiptoes, I plant my lips against his.

He fists my hair and tugs me away, breathing hard. "Gods, Ada. Please don't tempt me, not tonight, not when your father's blood is fresh on my mind. I want you. I want you so fucking badly. I swear I might die for the need, but I won't kiss you, nor can I touch you tonight, not like this, not when I feel so out of control.

His hand is shaking—his emotional state crawls under my skin and lights a fire in the pit of my belly.

My father is gone. I don't know exactly what that means, only that somehow Callum made it happen. In my eyes, he was already a hero. Now, he is nothing short of a king.

"I don't care," I say, my lips quivering and tears pooling in my eyes. I brush my hand against his cheek, feeling the scruff under my fingertips. "I don't care about anything but that I need you, that I need to feel something other than the terrible pain in my heart that I have endured for so long. Tonight, I want to purge the pain, to purge the memory of my old self, the scared girl who was the victim of an abusive father. Tonight, I want to rise, to be reborn, and to become a woman in every way. And I want that with you, Callum."

He heaves a breath, and the next thing I know, he smashes his lips over mine, taking control of the kiss and igniting the passion in me to a fever pitch. I cling shamelessly to him, pressing my body to his, entwining my fingers in his hair as our tongues engage in a dance that robs me of thought and breath.

When we finally find the will to come up for air, I feel like I am spinning. "I need you, Callum. I want you to be my first, to show me the other side of life."

"Fuck, Ada!" He reaches for me, slanting his mouth over mine again in a kiss that shoots sparks behind my eyes. He moves on, trailing kisses of pleasurable devastation down my throat. "Gods."

His hand shakes as he palms my breast through my gown, squeezing it roughly.

I push into it. "Yes, touch me there, please!"

In a swift move that has me breathless, he takes me down onto the low stack of hay, his lips at my throat as he tugs on the bodice of my gown, pulling it down and exposing my right breast.

Lifting his head, he stares down at what he has exposed. "So pretty," he says, a note of wonder in his voice.

A heartbeat later, the breath is punched from my lungs as he lowers his lips to my distended nipple and sucks.

"Goddess!" I fist his hair, holding him closer as he suckles my flesh, bringing goosebumps springing across my skin and a tingling urgency rising between my legs.

He yanks the other side down, trailing kisses over to the neglected side and palming my right breast again as he feasts on the left.

"Oh, please!" I need something. I don't have a clue what it is. More touches. Different touches… My hand delves between us, brushing over firm abdominals before I snag his belt and fumble to open it.

He tries to pry my fingers off, but his lips are locked on my breast, and he is distracted. The belt comes loose with a jangle, and I thrust my hand into his pants, groaning when my fingers find and wrap around hot male flesh.

"Let me see you," I pant.

"Fuck!" he mutters against my breast. "You are going to kill me, lass."

I giggle. He lifts his head and fixes me with a glare. I squeeze his hot flesh, feeling stickiness leak from the tip.

He groans, leans up, and prizes my hand away with a shudder. "This is all going to be over in a flash if you make me fucking come." His hand moves to my skirts, lifting them, trailing his shaking hand up my thigh until he reaches my panties.

"Yes, take them off," I demand, hitching my dress and reaching for them myself.

"Ada! Let a man enjoy the unwrapping," he mutters with a huff, plucking my hands away and pinning my wrists together above my head in one hand. He puts his other palm against my pussy, cupping me intimately over my panties while I pant and burn with impatience. Only his face, that enrapt expression as he stares at his hand, keeps me still.

He releases my hands, and I don't move this time as he leans right down, putting his nose against my panties and sniffing. "Gods, you smell fucking amazing." He brushes his knuckles against me through the cotton. "Are you wet, Ada? Is your pussy creaming for me?"

I don't know what he means, but I can feel how slick I am there, and all I can do is nod.

He pushes the material against me, poking it up inside me a small way before tugging it wetly away. I feel so alive, so lost in this sensual spell; I can't find a scrap of shame as my body weeps with need.

"Please," I whisper.

"Patience, lass," he says. Grasping for the waist of my panties, he slowly draws them down, exposing me to his lustful gaze. He closes his eyes and groans, and when he opens them again, I see a raw need that matches mine. He tugs them off, all the way down my legs in a rush, leaving a wet trail behind. Then his fingers are there, opening me, spreading me wide, and his brows bunch with concentration as he carefully traces the length of my pussy with a single finger. I gasp as he catches the little bud near the top. He stops, pins me with a look, and brushes over it again.

"Oh!" I try not to squirm. It feels nice, and I want more, but he has told me to be patient, and I want to please him in this.

He moves down again, until he pauses at the entrance. Then, expression enrapt, he pushes his finger inside with agonizing slowness. "Does that feel good, Ada?" He pumps slowly, not going very deep.

"So good. Please, more."

"You are very fucking tight."

My eyes sink to the bulge tenting his pants as he braces over me. I remember how he felt under my fingers. How big he is. I ought to be frightened. Only all I can think about is how much better it might feel with his cock filling me instead of his finger.

He smirks like he can read my thoughts. "Naughty girl," he says, and how I love the affection in his voice. "Someone is thinking about my cock. Rest assured, you're not getting your hands on it until you have come for me at least once."

"Come?"

He stills his finger inside and brushes the pad of his thumb over my clit. I jolt as pleasure zips through me.

"There we go," he says, pushing a second finger inside as he swipes his thumb back and forth over the sensitive place that has me twitching and groaning and twisting up inside. "That is the magic spot, hmm? Lie still for me like a good girl, and let me play, and then I will consider giving you my cock."

I can't breathe properly. I can't think straight. "Let me see you!"

"Just a little more."

"Oh, goddess. Oh. What…?" I hold my breath.

"Shh, focus on breathing for me."

It is surprisingly hard to breathe. Why is it so hard to breathe?

His face has a determined set to it, and I can't look away. Every muscle in my quivering body grows tense before sudden pleasure radiates in my core. My mind and body pitch into freefall. Wild groans pour from my lips as my pussy falls into sweet, clenching waves. "Oh, oh, oh!"

His lips close over my nipple, and I arch up against him, my body still quaking. His fingers thrust deeper, a little roughly.

I cannot get enough. My hands are in his hair. I'm so sensitive, but he doesn't stop. I dip my hand down his pants again to find his cock is even harder, and I squeeze.

He jerks up, groans, and sinks back on his heels. He doesn't interfere as I thrust his pants down far enough to liberate his cock so I can wrap my fingers around it.

Goddess. He is huge, hot, and angry-looking in my small hands. Stickiness leaks from the head that my slick pussy surely does not need.

With a grunt of defeat, he wraps his fingers around mine, stilling me. "I'm going to come."

"Good," I say, disgruntled at being denied. "I want you to. You can put it in me next time. Goddess. Please, Callum: I want to watch."

"Fuck!" He releases my hand and groans as I slowly pump.

Impatient, I shift to my knees, gently cupping the heavy sacks underneath as I stroke his thick length. "Am I doing it right?"

"Yes," he gasps, like he is in a lot of pain. I glance up to see a strained expression on his face. When I look back down, it seems the most natural thing in the world is to lower my head and suck the slick head into my mouth.

"Gods, lass! I can't…" He grunts. Hot, salty cum explodes in my mouth, and my lips pop off in shock.

I continue to pump my hand as more jets shoot out over his belly and the straw until he twitches and stills my hands, heaving ragged breath. I lick my lips, wishing I'd been better prepared so I might have taken more.

I peep up to find him wearing a lazy, satisfied grin.

I grin, too, and then I stuff my soaked fingers into my mouth and groan.

"Goddess weep, you are a test," he mutters, and taking my arms, he tumbles me to my back, thrusts my skirts up, and plants his mouth on my pussy with a low growl.

"Oh, yes!" I fall back helplessly as he kisses me there like he did my lips, making the wonderful urgency rise inside me again, making all the little nerves there tingle and the hot feeling pulse. Then he closes his lips over the magic place, as he called it, and sucks, and I am tumbling all over again, trying to rip his hair from his scalp as I ride his face in pleasure.

When I have done twitching and grunting, and all I can do is bask in the hazy aftermath, he surges up and collapses next to me, snuggling me close with my cheek against his heaving chest. His pants are still around his hips, his spent cock out, and I'm all sticky with my skirts tangled around my legs and my bodice down.

I have never felt happier in my life.

"Can we do that again?" I ask, feeling snoozy and content, although wondering belatedly why no one has come to look for me when we have a tavern full of patrons, and it is a Friday night.

"Aye, lass, for sure," he says. "Might need to give me a moment. My balls are utterly drained, and I'm as weak as a newborn kitten."

I giggle.

He chuckles.

"Ada, lass! My pa is asking if you are all right," Betsy calls.

I bolt up, trying to right my skirts and bodice. Callum tries to help me, cursing as we get in each other's way.

"Take your time," Betsy says. I can hear the smile in her voice before she gives up all pretenses and giggles. "I'll tell Pa you are dealing with women's issues."

"Thanks, Betsy," Callum calls, trying to straighten his shirt and grunting when it still looks rumpled.

Betsy's footsteps fade away.

We stop and stare at one another. I feel the air quicken between us, and it's as though a thread connects us, pulling us together.

He leans down, cups my checks, and kisses me sweetly. "You okay, Ada?"

I nod. "Yes, I think so." I grin back up at him like a love-struck fool.

"Go on, then, lass. I'll follow in shortly, so it's not too obvious." He gestures down with a grimace. "Also, my cock will not go down while you are near, and I cannot go into the tavern in this condition."

I laugh again, my heart nearly bursting in my chest with happiness.

I am still smiling when I enter the tavern. And that's when I see him—Master Gray—and my traitorous belly takes a tumble all over again.