Page 22 of The Cordial Bride

This time, Calan tried for quality over quantity. He had a whole lifetime to train himself to swallow all of Ian’s dick—and he would someday. That was the silent vow he made as he worked the cockhead and a bit of the shaft with his tongue, laving the skin and even using his teeth to scrape lightly. The effect was obvious. The cock seemed to swell within his mouth before cum spurted out. It flooded Calan’s mouth, making him choke once more. But when Ian tried to pull away, Calan stayed with him, swallowing as fast as he could. Still, some cum dribbled out, and when he finally released the dick entirely, he sat back on his heels and licked his lips clean.

“Gods, what you do to me!” Ian stared at him with half-closed eyes, his nostrils flared and his chest heaving with deep breaths. Grabbing Calan by the shoulders, he hauled him back to his lap and kissed him deeply.

Calan curled around his husband, plastering himself against the man’s large, hard body and trying to suck in his tongue as he had the cock. He gasped when Ian gripped him by the crotch. He was bucking into the hold, coming with overwhelming force before his mind even registered the touch. When it was done, he lay breathless within Ian’s embrace, his head pressed against the man’s throat.

His husband nuzzled the top of his head. “I’ve never known anyone as sensitive to sex as you, darling. You come from my fucking you alone, have you noticed? I barely have to touch you to make you climax, too. I feel rather cheated in how little I get to play with your body. Maybe I should put you in chastity to teach you self-control. What do you think of that idea?” There was amusement in his tone.

Calan had no idea what the man was talking about and yet his cock jerked at the suggestion. He snuggled closer. “Whatever you want, Ian. I’m yours to do with as you wish.”

Chapter Eight

Ian returned to the village with his wife’s hand in his and visions of putting the boy’s lovely cock and balls under lock and key. Calan was not only amazingly responsive to his touch, but also open to whatever Ian wanted to do, a rare thing in a lover in his experience. It had taken a great deal of his own self-control not to fuck the boy as he sat on his lap. And that was after the stupefying blow job. He couldn’t get enough of his wife and that was fine by him. He hoped that would never change, even as they grew old together. Well, not exactly together. Ian had a good head start on Calan. It made him realize that he needed to consult with his solicitor to make sure that Calan was well-cared for once Ian was gone.

As the dowager countess, the boy would always be entitled to the means to live out the rest of his life in comfort, but Calan wasn’t going to be content with puttering around the Charteris estate. He would want freedom, and Ian was determined that he would always have what he wanted. After all, however much Calan enjoyed the physical side of marriage, it was still true that Ian had forced the issue by offering it as part of the treaty. It was his duty to make sure Calan was happy and occupied with things he enjoyed. To that end, he had already decided that his wife would have a workshop and be encouraged to spend his days much as he already did. Who knew? The boy might discover something even more miraculous growing in Moorcondia.

That thought, along with the longhouse coming into view, reminded him how Calan had trusted him with the very secret the mission had been based on, not that Ian had any idea what one did with the mold he’d been shown to turn it into medicine. Knowing where to start was at least half the battle, and it was humbling that his wife believed the knowledge was safe with him. He would not abuse that trust, no matter what. Besides, Isabeau was responsible for making the best deal for Moorcondia. He had to believe she’d done her job well.

His sister came out of the longhouse at that moment, the Shadow Valley council by her side and in her wake. The atmosphere was convivial, although Isabeau hadn’t lost her stern demeanor, and Celia’s expression was only a lighter shade of grim. He hoped the treaty had been signed, sealed and delivered, bound by the matrimonial tie between him and his wife. Not that he had any more idea of its exact terms than Calan. He supposed now was as good a time as any to actually find out beyond the bare bones he’d bothered with to date. It was possible that everything from this point forward involved matters left to others and all he needed to focus on was making his marriage a happy one. Something told him that was wishful thinking.

Plastering a smile on his face, he led Calan over to the group. “Good afternoon. May I offer my congratulations on your concluded negotiations?”

Fennic was the first to respond, the man truly having a happy and kind personality. “Yes, thank you, my lord. Lady Isabeau has been most generous in what your great country has to offer our humble one.” The man’s gaze slid over to Calan. “And we, of course, are honored by the new familial connection with such a powerful family.” He paused, and his cheeks pinked a bit. “I trust the happy couple has enjoyed…the morning?” He may as well have asked if Ian and Calan had fucked.

Ian squeezed his wife’s hand before answering for the both of them. “Quite so. Our bridal chamber was charmingly welcoming, the perfect place for us to begin our marriage. And Calan has been showing me to a few of his favorite spots before he is to leave them for his new home.”

Before anyone could offer up any further niceties, Celia pushed forward. “What is this?” She turned a furious face at Calan. “Have you given him our secrets?”

Ian tugged Calan closer to his side, letting go of his hand in order to embrace him by the waist. “I can assure you, madam, that Calan has done no more or less than a loyal wife should.” Apparently, the issue of the treaty terms had been forced to the here and now. Ian wanted to shield Calan from any unpleasantness, but he had as much right as anyone—if not more—to hear what had been agreed to. “And as Calan’s husband, I need to know what the terms of the treaty are that affect him beyond our marriage as the person who developed the cordial.” He glared at Celia, daring her to contradict him.

Isabeau stiffened. “I’m not sure this is the time or place for those details, brother.”

“I beg to differ, sister. My marriage is less than a day old and as the instigator of this outcome, I’m not simply a casual observer. Not anymore.”

Fennic jumped in, almost literally, the brave man standing between two formidable women. “We intend to announce the treaty terms this evening at your farewell banquet, my lord, but I see no reason why we shouldn’t do so for your and your wife’s benefit now. After all,” he added with a kindly glance at Calan, “your wife is central to the terms.”

Ian merely lifted an eyebrow at the man.

Fennic cleared his throat. “So, um, one of the main problems we faced was that Shadow Valley is a self-sustaining country with no significant exporting of our goods. While we recognize the importance of having sufficient quantity of the cordial to benefit the larger population of Moorcondia, we simply cannot manage to produce that ourselves.”

“Which is why Moorcondia wanted the formula from the beginning,” Isabeau said.

Fennic nodded. “Just so. And while we believe your king to be true to his word, we were…concerned that if we simply give away the formula, the incentive to provide the trade goods in return would become…less urgent.”

If Ian had ever doubted the savviness of the Shadow Valley council, this confession eliminated it. The king was a man of his word, but why should these people believe that? Without the ongoing benefit being offered by one side of a trade deal, there was always the possibility that the other side would lose interest in keeping the bargain. “I can see where that would be a sticking point,” Ian offered in a conciliatory tone.

“But with your marriage to Calan? Well, that did cut through the problem nicely, my lord.” He beamed at the boy. “You won’t only be in charge of the distribution of the cordial. The formula will travel to your new home inside your head and you may share it with whomever you deem necessary for its proper production. We assume you’ll have no trouble replicating it, but if you need your aunt’s help before you leave…?”

“I don’t.” Calan’s tone was unusually biting for him.

Fennic didn’t seem to notice or was too good a politician to show that he had. “Excellent, and Charteris will become the hub of its manufacturing, benefiting from the revenue it will generate. We trust that the count now has a personal interest in making sure that the treaty terms are met, and all will be well.” The man clasped his hands in obvious delight and swung his gaze around to everyone gathered.

Isabeau looked less pleased as she confirmed the outcome. “Yes, that is what the treaty says. Your wife is to have control over the production of the cordial and is entitled to half of all of its profits. If the raw materials cannot be found in Moorcondia, you must send some of your people here to harvest it, however often as is necessary.”

Ian gave into the urge to kiss the top of his wife’s head before commenting. “Of course, Calan will have the freedom to do whatever he likes as an apothecary and I’ve already agreed that his money is his own. That was never in doubt, and he and I discussed it during our walk.”

Celia took a half-step closer to Calan. “But you’ve already told him everything he needs to know, haven’t you boy? They don’t require your cooperation. You’ve damned the treaty for the sake of your carnal pleasure. Now he has your body and our valuable cordial.”

Calan jerked within his embrace. Ian moved him away from his aunt, tightening his hold in an effort to reassure him. “I must insist, madam, that you direct your ire at me. Calan has done nothing to earn it, and I don’t take kindly to anyone impugning the actions and motives of my family—especially when it comes to my wife.” He took a second and a deep breath to calm himself. “No harm has been done to the treaty or the interests of either country.” He wasn’t in the habit of intimidating women, but he stared at Celia until she looked away.

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