The Warrior and the Druidess Read Free Page A

portion— no more than six pinches of chopped mistletoe soaked in a beaker of water. And the tea is brewed from one pinch of mistletoe leaves in a cup of boiled water, with no more than two cups had in a day.”
    He gasped. “I am honored. Druids seldom share sacred secrets with anyone.”
    “You are to be my husband; I will share all with you.” Tanwen flashed a challenging grin.
    His heart leapt in his chest. Gods, this woman is dangerous . “You still insist that I am to wed you.”
    “Yes.” Her warm, sultry voice made his skin tingle.
    “Boudica would not have sent me here if it were not to be.”
    He had to be strong. He could not let this creature and her druid magic enchant him into a marriage he didn’t want. “You shared your secret with me; I shall share mine with you.” He leaned closer. “Heather mead.”
    “I have heard of a mead brewed from heather that makes the Picts invincible to their foes.”
    “It is so.” She’s falling for the trap, he thought. “As mistletoe grows on oak, moss grows on heather,” he continued. “Bees feed on the heather and make a special treat—heather honey. We brew mead from that honey, along with heather tops. It is all we need—no barley.” A few cups of heather mead, and she’ll answer all my questions.
    Her bright eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Due to the moss on the heather.”
    “Yes, that is the secret. It also makes the mead stronger.”
    Tanwen smiled. “Let us drink of this heather mead together.”
    “I do not think you can handle it.” He prodded on purpose to ensure she would drink with him.
    “I have drunk mistletoe afore, stronger than what is given to the sick. I use it to aid travel through the oak door.”
    “You must be a powerful druidess if you have crossed the veil to the other world.”
    “The mistletoe helped. If I can handle it, I am certain to be able to hold my own against your mead.”
    “We will see.” Brude stood and then walked away, but quickly returned. He held a skin of mead and two smooth, wooden cups, which he brimmed with the golden drink. He handed one to her.
    The sweet smell of fermented honey perfumed the air and dulled the strong odor of woad dye.
    She raised her cup high, flashing Brude an enticing smile. “With this draft, drawn from the well of wisdom, I fill the cauldron of my spirit with the brew of inspiration.” Tanwen pressed the rim of the cup against her lips and tossed the golden liquid down her throat in one motion. Brude did the same.
    The drink freed his spirit from the constraints of his mind. Unable to think, he watched her breasts bounce and her hips sway as she began to dance.
    She gazed deep into his eyes. “We enter the world naked, in our natural state. Only when we shed our outer clothing, can we know our true selves.” Tanwen licked a drop of honey mead from the corner of her mouth. “I want to know you.” She was as a red flame, flickering freely this way and that as she danced.
    Fire raged in him. His groin tightened and swelled. Hastily, he filled another cup and drank it dry. He didn’t notice Tanwen’s first cup was still half full.
    With the confidence of those whose ancestors watched over them, and with the boldness brought by the heather mead, Tanwen threw her plaid cloak aside and seductively shed her tunic dress. “When the mead was brewed, the cauldron was hot.”
    His erection throbbed. His heart raced. He wanted to grab this woman.
    With lithe movements, she danced around the fire. Her breasts jiggled for Brude, and her legs leapt as they would move in love play. “Do you feel the heat flowing underneath your skin?” she rasped.
    He burned like a flame and couldn’t form a solid thought. Blood pounded in his head. He yanked the wool tunic off his hot skin and threw it to the ground. He stepped out of his checkered braies and stood fully nude before her, stiff and pulsating with need.
    He gazed into her eyes.
    She stopped dancing. After a long breath, she refilled